


Crashing Through Time

by MegalomaniacalGay



Category: Columbine - Fandom
Genre: Alteration of History, M/M, Time Travel, first time threesome
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2020-12-02
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:01:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27770425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MegalomaniacalGay/pseuds/MegalomaniacalGay
Summary: Several friends and myself, all of us being North Carolinians living in 2020-2021, are recruited by the Biden-Harris administration to serve on a time-travel mission. We chose to travel to Littleton, CO, March 1999, and all hell breaks loose...
Relationships: Dylan Klebold/Narrator, Eric Harris/Dylan Klebold, Eric Harris/Narrator
Comments: 3
Kudos: 2





	1. Time Travel? I call bullshit...

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wocket](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wocket/gifts).



> This is my first work on Archive of Our Own and in this fandom. Time to put my English minor to good use. I was inspired largely after reading the "Honor Bound" series by "wocket". If alteration of history/stopping of the shooting is an issue for you, consider yourself warned before reading this work.

Allow me to briefly introduce myself. My name is Steven and I am a music education major with a double minor in English and Humanities at a college in North Carolina. I am also student teaching at a high-achieving, top-100-in-America ranked high school (grades 9-12) near my college. I was only 10 months old when Columbine occurred, so I grew up in a post-Columbine world. I never saw myself having anything to do with Columbine until that fateful day in December of 2020.

***Thursday, December 3, 2020, 7:00-9:00ish PM***

I clocked out from my part-time job at Bed Bath and Beyond at exactly 7:03 PM. My 11-7 shift had been wrought with Karens refusing to wear their masks and the usual frantic holiday shoppers trying to snag their Christmas décor and stocking stuffers. More questions about vacuum cleaners, crock pots and Keurigs than you can count. Over 150 online orders picked up by cranky soccer moms in their Tahoes, Suburbans, Explorers, Sorentos and XC90s. It had been a long day, but I was grateful to head home and start my 3-day weekend. 

I slid into the driver's seat of my Volvo S60, pulled off my mask (hanging it on the windshield wiper control) and promptly cued up "Megalomaniac" by KMFDM on my iPhone 11. I needed the electronic edge of the KMFDM song to help keep me awake for my 35 minute drive home. I nudged the Volvo out of the parking lot and onto New Garden Road as the song filled the car. I had made it through "Megalomaniac" twice, and was starting "Encoder" by Pendulum when my phone rang. My mother's name appeared in the car's infotainment display. 

"Whaaaaaaaat?!" I sarcastically sneered through the phone. "Steven, where are you?" Mom's tone immediately made me realize that this was a serious call. "I'm on Friendly Avenue, fixing to turn onto the I-73 beltway now. Is everything okay?" "Yeah, everything's fine. We got a call and you got a really official-looking letter a little while ago from the U.S Department of Physics. They need to speak to you as soon as you get home. They're waiting on you to call tonight" she said. My pulse began racing. "Mom, open the letter. NOW. Tell me what its about" I said with a bit of a nervous edge. She opened the letter and began reading. 

"Steven, 

The confidentiality of this letter is of utmost importance. You have been recommended by your collegiate professors, mentoring teacher, and supervising colleagues at Bed Bath and Beyond as a prime candidate for our Time Travel initiative beginning in February, 2021. We have spent the past twelve years perfecting this science under utmost secrecy. We can now transport people and vehicles throughout time safely with minimal side effects and no danger whatsoever. We will be contacting you via telephone soon to set up training interviews...." Mom's voice trailed off as we both tried to process what we were both experiencing. My hearing began to go into "tunnel-ear" and I damn near crashed the car. I put my emergency blinkers on and pulled the car onto the side of the I-73/I-840 beltway to pull myself back together. 

_"What (and I cannot emphasize this enough) the FUCK is going on? I left work a normal, broke-ass, gay college kid, and now I'm somehow the chosen one to jump on the government's TARDIS and go gallivanting through time??? No, this has to be some fucked up prank..."_ I mentally mused as I tried to pull my shit together long enough to get home in one piece. Mom was equally as dumbfounded. "Steven, you okay?? Can you get home?" I pulled myself together well enough to halfway convince myself it was some kind of joke. "Yes mom, I can get home. Let me get off here and get back on the road. Love you" I said like a zombie. "Love you too son. Drive safe."

The phone clicked off and "Encoder" resumed streaming through the speakers. I turned off the blinkers and swung back onto the beltway. Soon, I was merging onto I-85 South at 75 mph, my mind still racing. I swung across all five lanes into the left express lane and set the cruise control at 84 mph. 18 miles of "get the fuck outta my way you slow ass hoes" later, I pulled off I-85 onto the Lake Road exit. I guided the car down the county roads as I neared home, still doing a solid 55-60 mph on the two lane, 45 mph roads. I swung into the driveway, shut the car off and ran into the garage. Mom opened at the top of the garage steps and I damn near ran into her as I bounded up the steps, my heart pounding and nerves screaming. She handed me the letter.

I read past the first part she had already read out loud. The letter mostly contained pleasantries and other form-letter mumbo-jumbo, but I reached the bottom to find a handwritten signature from Nancy Pelosi and the phone number of the office I needed to call. Tentatively, I pulled out my iPhone and dialed the number. Three rings, and the other end picked up.

"Hello, this Steven Davis. I needed to call this number?" I said nervously. The person on the other end said "Ahh, Steven, thank you for calling! We've been expecting this call." I instantly recognized the voice as "Mayor" Pete Buttigieg, who ran for the 2020 Democratic nomination. With the Trump-Biden transition underway, Buttigieg had been appointed to a high-ranking position on the Cabinet.

I damn near dropped the phone. This was no joke. This was some real, legit shit. 

I somehow managed to hold the phone and stay upright for the remainder of the conversation. I can't disclose all the details here due to confidentiality, but a meeting time and place in nearby Greensboro was decided upon for December 10, 2020. I was strictly forbidden, under penalty of law, from disclosing any of the details to my friends until the all-clear to do so was given. 

The call ended with pleasantries exchanged and reassurances from Mr. Buttigieg that this was indeed legit. I put the phone down and slowly sank into the La-Z-Boy in the den, my mind whirling with the same questions as earlier. _"Why ME?? Is this still a joke?"_ I must've zoned out and swam in my mental mess for a while, because it was suddenly 10:00 PM. I begrudgingly pulled myself out of the chair and made my way to prepare for bed. _"Surely this is all a joke"_ I thought to myself, praying that I would wake up the next morning to find my world back to normal.

Spoiler alert: It wasn't a joke and my world was no longer "normal". 


	2. This ain't a joke...

I hit the bed Thursday night like an exhausted ton of bricks. The long shift, plus the time-travel bomb dropped on me had worn me the _fuck_ out. Before going to sleep, with the assistance of NyQuil, I sent a goodnight snap to all my Snapchat streaks and set my iPhone for a scheduled Do Not Disturb period from 10:00 PM--9:00 AM. The NyQuil hit my system, and I was out like a light. 

***Friday, December 4, 2020, 9:00 AM***

*insert sound of my iPhone 11 literally having a seizure of spectacular motherfucking proportions here*

I rolled over groggily in bed to witness my iPhone blowing up harder than the Death Star. I reached over and snatched it off of the wireless charging pad it sleeps on to find two of my group chats literally going ballistic. I clicked on my coworker group chat first. 

*Chat: Bed Bath and Bitches* 

>Melanie: y'all ain't gonna believe this 

>Ryleigh: don't tell me you got a time travel invite

>Melanie: OMG YOU GOT ONE TOO

>Ryleigh: yep I did :o

>Ryleigh: Steven did you get one?

>Melanie: if he did I stg I might freak

As I tried to process what I was reading, my other group chat with a couple of close school friends was blowing up too. I clicked over.

*Chat: Honors Hoes*

>Miranda: y'all I just got a fucking time travel invite

>Ben: wtf you too?!

>Rachel: I did too wtf

>Miranda: tell me y'all are lying 

>Ben: nope

>Ben: *picture of letter*

>Rachel: *picture of letter*

>Rachel: *screenshot of phone call*

"... _fuck fuckety fuck fuck fuck this is fucking real"_ coursed through my brain as I attempted to process all of it. Remember the whole top secret clause? Yeah, that went out the window in about -.2 seconds. I quickly began replying to both chats.

*Bed Bath and Bitches*

>Me: I got one too. No cap

>Melanie: I FUCKING KNEW IT

>Melanie: BLOODY HELL

>Ryleigh: are you serious rn?!

>Me: yep. serious af. Interviews start December 10.

>Melanie: omg Ryleigh and I both interview then too. Greensboro?

>Me: yep :0

*Honors Hoes*

>Me: yep I got it too. Y'all interview December 10 in Greensboro?

>Rachel: yes omg

>Ben: are you fr?

>Miranda: omg there's some real spoopy shit going on 

>Me: this is beyond crazy af

>Me: See y'all on the 10th then I guess

***Fast Forward...***

The last week had been an absolute emotional roller coaster. I worked 8-hour shifts Monday-Wednesday at Bed Bath and Beyond, noticing that neither Melanie nor Ryleigh was scheduled to work the same shifts. This was incredibly odd, as we're literally "the three amigos" and the managers _always_ schedule us on the same shifts. When I mentioned this oddity to the managers, they simply brushed it off as a fluke, but I knew better. I also burst into tears twice at work from the stress of still trying to process the time travel bombshell, in addition to doing my job and completing my college finals. I submitted my last final at 11:52 PM Wednesday night and crawled in bed a relieved, but still stressed, mess.

***Thursday, December 10, 2020, 11:00 AM***

I took one last look at myself in the bathroom mirror before snatching my keys and mask off the counter. The time travel meeting was starting at 12:00 PM and I had dressed nicely--blue-black striped button-down and khakis with matching "Sunday best" loafers. I stopped by the door to grab a pair of worn Nike's (I *despise* driving in dress shoes) and attempted to calm my nerves one last time.

 _"Steven. You got this. You're fine. Just breathe. All your friends will be there too. You got this"_ I repeated over and over in my head as I got in my Volvo. I entered the address into the car's navigation system and backed out of the driveway. 

***Exactly 37 minutes later***

I slowed the car and slid into the left turning lane of Westridge Road as I approached the stoplight for the Battleground Avenue intersection. The destination, a nondescript, "typical early 1990s architecture", white office building nestled between Battleground Avenue and Old Battleground Road, was clearly visible. The light changed to green and I nosed the car through the left turn. I aimed into the right lane and smoothly swung the Volvo right into the parking lot of the office building. 

_"Welp, here we go..."_ I thought to myself as I looked for a parking space. I soon spied several familiar vehicles: Miranda's VW hatchback, Ryleigh's Ford, Melanie's VW station wagon, Ben's Toyota and Rachel's Audi were all parked side-by-side. I also took note of several polished, new-looking black GMC YukonXL SUVs in the lot. I swung into the empty space next to Rachel's car and checked myself one last time in the visor mirror. _I may be a nervous ass wreck, but I do clean up nicely,_ " I thought to myself as I shut the car off and pulled my mask on.

I stepped out of the Volvo and touched the lock sensor, halfway hoping the car wouldn't lock so I could dive back in and drive away. Much to the chagrin of my fragile nerves, the alarm beeped and the mirrors swung in, indicating a successful lock. 

I walked up the front steps of the building and opened the door. Stepping into the air lock, I could already see "the crew" standing in the atrium-lobby. I stepped through the solid glass doors into the open-ceiling atrium and sucked in my breath in awe at the modern beauty of the space. The interior of the building was a far cry from the bland exterior. Balconies with glass and steel railings looked over into the bright, sunlit space from the upper floors. Gorgeous, Pinterest-worthy glass-rod chandeliers hung from the atrium ceiling, with LED spotlights surrounding them. The lower ceilings further back into the lobby area boasted flush LED lighting and neatly placed, sleek security cameras and smoke detectors. Everything in the lobby, from the furniture, to the lights, even down to the placement of the electrical outlets and fire alarms on the walls, oozed sophistication and design clarity that could rival any Pinterest post or architectural magazine feature. 

"Earth to Steven!!" Melanie snapped her fingers in my face, bringing me out of my trance. Before either of us could advance a conversation, we heard a voice from a hallway to our left.

"Hello to all of you! Right on time I see." We all turned to the voice to find an entourage consisting of President-elect Joe Biden, VP-elect Kamala Harris, Senator Nancy Pelosi and several black-tie agents approaching us, led by the one and only Pete Buttigieg. 

Before we could respond beyond simple pleasantries, Mr. Buttigieg motioned us to follow them down the hallway. We followed in nervous anticipation, making a couple of turns before arriving at a door marked "Conference Room 4". 

"After you", Buttigieg said as he held open the door for us...


End file.
